ONE POEM – Lauren Bender

points for you if you are boss of the building, every lock
warm at your fingertips, every door’s soft click
yours as it shuts, every window with your face
reflected in it.

TWO POEMS – Natalie Crick

I want to feel
the warm milk of your smile. 
I want to see your reflection
in the moon’s mirror, polished like spring bones. 

POETRY – Chavonne Brown

She was not like unwitting prey,
That had never sighted the lion;
She fled from him, knowing
As she did what it meant…

ONE POEM – A. Martine

Brown girl: you don’t get a plot twist. Your story’s been penned
with strokes as hollow as they are spiteful

ONE POEM – Ian C. Smith

For those who forego the languor of home ground, that lethal rapine of routine, the most compelling sound of the travelling life might be a ferry’s foghorn throughout the night

ONE POEM – Emily Barker

A drunk girl came up to me in a club last week and told me, yet again, that I look exactly, no, exACtly–Sarah! Come over here! Doesn’t she look exACtly like our Hannah?

ONE POEM – Anne Gill

In lattie we held martinis,
un-clobbered each other –
left our cats on the floor in nishta.

What Makes a Proper Yorkshire Brew? – Lucinda Maitra

Rather than a distant past we can simply overcome or attempt to forget, our relationship to the historical atrocities of violent imperialism is difficult and clearly far from over, despite attempts to suggest otherwise.

Feeling Myself – Dolly Church

When my body was made up of straight lines it felt boyish and uninteresting, and when those lines finally bent, they felt uncontrollable.

ONE POEM – Fran Root

Their guitars stand somewhere in an empty room on American soil
Dust spots in the sun settle on their strings

An interview with Claudia Knight

Born in the heart of the Black Country, Claudia Knight is predominantly a writer who is exploring the capabilities of her creativity after moving to London and discovering the freedom in taking more risks in life. Having discovered the endless possibilities when creating digital art, her bold yet simple pieces explore her relationship with herself, her body…

TWO POEMS – Paul McCarrick

The moon will not go down again,
street lights will be on forever and drive
electricity bills into walls with no seatbelts

SHORT STORY – Tamara Lazaroff

My grandfather who was not gay was born in 1930 in Seville, Andalusia. He worked as an itinerant labourer for the señoritos, the rich landlords, tending their olive trees and their domesticated animals.

COMFORT FOODS // Dissecting the Heart of Mandu – J.A. Pak

Dissecting the Heart of Mandu The Chinese, Mongolians, Japanese, and now the Americans and Europeans are in my food, but are the Turkic nomads there as well? Intriguing and exciting. A mandu (만두) is a Korean dumpling. A savory dumpling with a filling of meat. It’s usually boiled but it can also be steamed, pan-fried,…